


Even If It's a Lie, I Wanted To Help

by lal nila syrin (lalnilasyrin)



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Abuse, Bullying, Child Abuse, Gen, Implied Bullying, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 00:29:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4158714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalnilasyrin/pseuds/lal%20nila%20syrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A misunderstanding leads Danny to finding out about Dash’s home situation. He wants to help… even if it means he has to lie a little to do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even If It's a Lie, I Wanted To Help

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [textsfromghosts](http://tmblr.co/mWJzxj_1vRBK1sANkrjvd7g)'s [post](http://textsfromghosts.tumblr.com/post/121032148331/dannys-worried-hell-have-to-tell-dash-who-he-is) with the headcanon that [Dash is abused at home](http://textsfromghosts.tumblr.com/tagged/Dash-abuse-arc/chrono), with a slightly different twist. No revelations involved. (Also, the ending feels weird to me? So sorry about that in advance.)

Danny Fenton didn’t like changing or showering at school while other people were around—Dash had chalked it up to being self-conscious of his scrawny body. Since their gym and lunch periods were right net to each other, Fenton often took the first half of lunch to do what the other boys in the locker room did in the ten-minute grace period. Dash also suspected that it was to avoid his usual bullies or something—Dash included.

Dash stayed behind one day after everyone else had gone to lunch—he’d had a particularly bad night the previous day and honestly some of his bruises couldn’t be explained away by rough-housing with his friends or football tackles, so he opted to change in relative privacy after telling his friends to go ahead. In the empty locker room, Dash heard the shower turn on—he knew it was Fenton, doing his usual weird avoid-everyone-else routine, so he ignored it and went about changing out of his gym uniform, careful not to disturb his bruises.

He’d changed back into his regular clothes and was pulling on his Letterman jacket when the shower sounds stopped and he heard wet footsteps coming toward him. There was a sharp intake of breath as the boy spotted the jock, and he was half-way turned around to smirk and make fun of Fenton when he caught sight of those wide, deer-in-headlights blue eyes.

“Oh,” Fenton frowned, steeling his face, self-consciously gripping the towel around his waist tighter. “What’re you doing here, Dash?”

“Changing, what else?” Dash sneered, narrowing his eyes, “I was just leaving. What’s it matter to you anyway? Not like you own the place.”

“Whatever,” Fenton grumbled, going to his locker and fumbling with the lock with his one free hand.

Dash frowned at the boy’s back, catching sight of dark-colored bruises littering the other’s pale skin and  _hell, are those scars?_  His eyes widened as he was able to trace a long, faded line from Fenton’s shoulder to the base of his spine, and that was only the biggest one—there were other smaller ones, some looking just as nasty and less time-worn, but they practically formed a map on the kid’s body.

Dash knew he constantly beat up the kid, but he also knew some of those bruises weren’t in the right places to have been his fault. Not to mention the healed cuts—Dash had never made anyone  _bleed_  before, but obviously  _someone_  had made Fenton.

“What?” Fenton turned around to glare at him when he realized the blond was staring, pushing away his sopping wet black hair so Dash could see the intensity in both ice-blue eyes. Dash quickly shook his head, turning away—there were some darker, fresher scars on the boy’s front, and even more bruises bloomed under his skin.

“Nothing,” Dash quickly scoffed, “I can see why you try to shower by yourself—you’re even pathetic without the baggy clothes.”

He had no idea why he’d said that. Maybe he just didn’t want Fenton to know he’d seen the bruises—Dash knew the feeling of being stared at, after all. He himself appreciated it when Kwan stayed quiet and made sure no one else was looking when he changed.

“Sorry not everyone’s a beefcake like you,” Fenton said dryly, opening his locker and grabbing his shirt, pulling it over his head. “What, gonna wail on me for being pathetic?”

“…No, and I just realized I really shouldn’t beat up someone so tiny,” Dash huffed, crossing his arms as he turned to go, “You’re like a stick! I could break you in half!”

“Give it your best shot, I’m not as fragile as you think.” Danny challenged quietly.

 _No kidding,_  Dash thought, pretending he didn’t hear as he pushed the doors open and rushed out of them,  _you’ve gotta be tough as balls to take all that abuse and still take a beating from me without saying anything._

Regret coiled uncomfortably in his stomach as he made his way down the hall to the cafeteria. He had always wondered why Fenton never said anything when Dash beat him up—he never talked to the teachers, and Dash doubted he talked to his parents, given how much he openly complained about them. He hid the bruises well, and he hid the cuts better. There was a dawning realization that Fenton never said anything about Dash’s own abuse toward him because he was used to keeping quiet about whatever else was wrong in his life. Maybe he’d told his friends—that techno-geek and the goth girl  _were_  strangely protective of him after all—but what good could a couple of kids do with something this serious?

Dash had to wonder who was beating up the kid—was it his parents? They always seemed so kindhearted and slightly bumbling, even if somewhat scary with their obsession with ghosts, but somehow Dash couldn’t imagine them hitting either of their children. Jazz certainly didn’t seem to show any signs of abuse… No, it had to be someone else in the kid’s life, someone who targeted  _just_  Danny Fenton. Dash didn’t know who—heck, he didn’t even know Fenton at all except for his spot on the social chain—but he was sure that it was someone Fenton couldn’t out without consequences.

Dash knew the feeling, after all.

Quietly, he resolved to stop wailing on the kid so much—Dash was used to taking out his frustration on others, but Fenton had it worse than him and he’d never seen the kid do much more than make snarky remarks. He didn’t know how Fenton coped, but if he could do it without hurting others, than Dash could too. Besides, now that he knew Fenton had it so rough… well, why add to the abuse?

At least now he knew why Fenton liked to change by himself.

~~~

“Hey, you’ve been acting weird all week. You okay?”

Dash looked up at his best friend, sitting back as he pushed around some fries on his tray. “Yeah, fine, just thinking about something.”

He was glad none of his other friends were around, because they probably would have made fun of him since he didn’t “think” much. Thankfully, Kwan never questioned him—in fact, sometimes he admired Dash whenever he had ideas or something, even if it was something small and stupid. The Asian boy didn’t expect anything from Dash, but he still praised him for the littlest things, which was a nice change from how most other people treated him.

“Thinking about your dad?”

Dash shivered involuntarily, shrugging. “Sort of.”

“Want to come over tonight?” Kwan offered casually, looking down at his Nasty Burger Milkshake, sipping it thoughtfully, “Mom’s making chicken wings.”

“The less I have to go home, the better,” Dash nodded, relief sagging his shoulders as he slumped back, “Hopefully dad will be asleep when I get back, then I won’t have to deal with him.”

“You could always sleep over,” Kwan suggested, “Mom loves having you.”

“Thanks, but I should probably get home tonight, I don’t want mom to get in trouble with dad for not knowing where I am…” Dash muttered, shrugging helplessly, adding lamely, “Besides, it’s my turn to walk Pooky in the morning.”

“Uh huh…” Kwan didn’t seem to actually buy the excuse, but he said nothing else about it, well aware of how much Dash tried to protect his mother, even if it meant getting hurt himself.

They fell silent again, and Dash looked out the window and into the Nasty Burger’s parking lot as he ate his fries and burger absently. Kwan frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. “Okay, so what were you really thinking about?”

Dash glanced over at his friend, grimacing. “Honestly? Fenton.”

Kwan blinked in surprise. “Fenton?” He asked, bemused. “I noticed you haven’t beat him up this week, but…”

“Yeah. I sort of… accidentally found out he’s like me.” Dash muttered quietly, looking down at his burger and avoiding his friend’s concerned brown gaze, “I haven’t said anything to him. Don’t know if I should. I don’t know if it’s my right, y’know? After all the times I wailed on him… not to mention, if I told him to talk to a social worker without having gone to one myself… yeah, I definitely have no right to say anything to him, I’d just be like, a hypocrite or something. I want to do _something_  though. He has it  _worse_  than me.”

“Worse?” Kwan frowned deeply, “How can he be…”

Dash lowered his voice, still not looking up. “He’s got  _scars_ , Kwan. Not just bruises.”

“Like, the ‘it’s just a cat scratch’ kind or…?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t really focused on his arms. But… all over his back, and his chest. There’s no way in hell those were self-inflicted,” Dash shook his head, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he took razor to his own arms, though. His grades suck, he’s got the worst marks in gym, he’s a loser and a freak… his life is kind of crap and it’s not like we made his life any easier.”

“Oh, geez… yeah, you were right, that  _is_  worse,” the black-haired jock shook his head. “No wonder you stopped beating him up. Don’t worry, I’ll give him a break too. But you’re right, something has to be done.”

“But what? We can’t exactly call the cops on this one—I don’t even know who’s doing it to the fr—kid.” Dash shook his head, “We—I don’t know what his situation is. We can’t mess it up for him right? What if outing his abuse just makes his life worse?”

Kwan bit his lip, looking out the window. “Like how if you outed your dad, he’d leave you scars too?”

“Yeah.” Dash sighed and pushed his food aside, not hungry anymore. “Not to mention I risk the foster system if I do. Fenton’s lucky, I think his sister’s old enough to legally emancipate herself and take custody of him if it does turn out his folks are his abusers, but…”

“Even if your dad got out of the picture, your mom’d be deemed unfit and you’d lose everything,” Kwan shook his head sympathetically. “You think Fenton’s parents are doing this to him?”

“No, not really,” Dash shrugged despondently, “but then again. It’s not like anyone suspects my dad either…”

“Dash…”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Kwan. But I gotta do something, right? The stuff he’s going through… it ain’t right. Even I don’t have it that bad.”

“Yeah…”

The two fell silent, dread pooling in their stomachs as they thought about the unfortunate black-haired teenager they’d been beating up since middle school.

They didn’t realize that, two booths away, Danny Fenton had heard their entire conversation, even if it was as hushed as it was. He had frozen in his seat, staring blankly forward and worrying his bottom lip with his teeth as his friends tried to get his attention.

~~~

Danny didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on Dash and Kwan, but he had heard his name—without any insulting degradation for once—and he couldn’t help but hone in on their conversation with his ghost-enhanced hearing.

He didn’t tell his friends what he’d heard—obviously, Dash was trying to keep a secret of his own, and he wasn’t about to disrespect that. But once the unintentional revelation had been made, his thoughts reeled—Dash had been abused? By his father? And by the sounds of it, it seemed like his mother was abused too, and neither of them could get out of their situation.

It took him a while to fully register that Dash had seen his scars in the locker room last week, and he thought  _Danny_  was abused. He wasn’t, of course—all of his battle scars came from ghost fights, but of course Dash wouldn’t know that. Thinking he was abused was actually the most logical course of action. But now Dash sympathized with an issue that wasn’t there and wanted to  _help_  Danny. That was a weird thought in and of itself.

But how could he help Danny if he couldn’t even help himself?

The fact that his bully was actually concerned about him—and had actually stopped hurting him—was somewhat of a mind-blowing thought, and Danny couldn’t help but feel a little touched. He wasn’t actually being abused though—he didn’t need help.

However, Dash  _was_  being abused at home, and he  _did_  need help.

Danny doubted that talking to him as Fenton would help the boy any—he was supposed to be unaware of Dash’s secret. Besides, he couldn’t just tell Dash to talk to a social worker, Dash had already made that point—if Dash hadn’t gone to one already, then his situation was a lot more complex than Danny really understood. He did know one thing though.

Dash was afraid—afraid of his father, afraid for his mother… and he didn’t want anyone else to go through what he was going through.

Dash needed help—and Danny felt that somehow, he  _had_  to help him. No, he felt that he  _wanted_  to. Dash felt the same way about Danny, after all, and deep down Danny knew Dash wasn’t that bad a guy if he meant what he said to Kwan.

Now he just needed to find a way to save the kid.

~~~

Danny had never noticed what an extraordinary actor Dash was—the blond jock was even better than Danny, admittedly. He stalked the boy after school in his ghost form, hoping to figure out what to do about the abuse situation, and he saw things about Dash he’d never fully registered before.

Dash was a macho, tough, manly guy most of the time, and that was often agreed upon throughout the school. Dash was a little short-tempered and maybe a little slow, but he was confident in his character and what he wanted, and he made it seem like football was the only thing on his mind. After football practice in the after school hours, but Danny saw that persona melt away as everyone left the locker room, and Dash finally changed so he could go home.

He saw Dash’s bruises, fresh purple and blue across his abs.

Danny could easily see how he could wave those away if anyone ever asked, maybe with a joke or two of “Samson tackled too hard today” or dismissing it completely. Just like how Danny often used Dash’s bullying as an excuse for his own, less easily hidden bruises.

Today he didn’t seem to have the energy to act, wincing as he changed, and Danny looked away when the confident jock he was used to seeing was changed into someone depressed and broken and struggling.

There was a lot he didn’t know about Dash Baxter, but he would have never guessed that what he did know was all an act.

He tailed Dash home and the illusion faded even more. He realized too quickly that all the clues were there—Dash had always let them slip. It was just that no one had ever put them together.

Dash coddled his tiny chihuahua because it was one of the few things that made him and his mother happy—the pooch licked him to make him smile after a long day of school and football, and it curled up in Dash’s lap protectively whenever he sat still long enough. He watched soap operas with his mother and enjoyed them because it was someone else’s drama, it was a fantasy he could escape to, it was the only thing he could do with his mother because it didn’t require talking or facing the drama in their own life. He had dozens of teddy bears in his closet because he needed something to hug, because his parents obviously didn’t show him any physical affection—his mother was too scared for the contact and his father’s affection—fake as it was—was an act for public eyes only.

Danny watched Mrs. Baxter as she spoke politely in such a fake, sweet tone to her husband as she served him dinner, his eyes narrowing at the black eye and the long, obvious bruises on her neck, and he realized he’d never seen Dash’s mother out in public. He watched as Dash spoke in the same overly polite tone, ending his sentences with “sir” and sitting straight and wary like a trained military cadet.

He watched as the man—prestigious and well-known and well-liked by his community—shoved his son at the sink and told him to clean up, while he went to sit in the living room and drink his beer while watching the evening news. The Ghost Report was on, and he muttered curses about “Inviso-Bill” and how ghosts were freaks of nature and shouldn’t exist.

He floated next to Dash as he did his chores, and heard the boy mutter, “I wish I were more like him… then I wouldn’t have to deal with this.”

Danny stilled, wondering how to interpret that. Did Dash mean that he wished he was a ghost—did that mean he wanted to die? Well that was one solution, because then he wouldn’t have to deal with all the crap his dad put him through, but it was too permanent, and Danny  _knew_  Dash had a lot more to live for. Did Dash mean that he wanted to be a brave and strong superhero like Danny? Well, then he’d have the strength to stick up for himself and face his dad, but that implied he didn’t think he was strong enough right now.

The lack of self-confidence Dash had when he was at home was such a stark contrast to the jock who used to beat Danny up, and Dash’s change of face was astounding. He probably was strong enough, Danny thought, but he’d dealt with this for so long by himself that he had either forgotten or never learned that.

Just when he started trying to think of ways to get Dash to help himself, his ghost sense went off—and with a worried glance to the boy, he flew through the wall to catch whatever wayward spirit had interrupted his investigations.

It was just a pod of ectopi, but there were enough of them that it took a while to catch them all and it had drawn the attention of news reporters. Danny spent a few minutes getting away from them before he flew back to Dash’s—his eyes widened in shock when he got there.

He wasn’t quite sure what had happened in the hour or so that he was away, but he had arrived just as Mr. Baxter was pulling back his fist to punch his son—judging from the way Dash was curled over, clutching his stomach, it wasn’t the first hit that night.

His eyes flared an angry, electrifying green as he dropped his invisibility and his hand shot out, catching the older man’s fist.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” He demanded as powerfully as he could. Behind him, Dash gasped in surprise, and Mrs. Baxter, who was cowering in the corner, stared up at him with bewildered, frightened eyes.

Mr. Baxter gaped at him, shocked into a stupor, before he struggled and pulled his hand back, pointing an accusing finger, “Inviso-Bill! What are you doing in my house, you ghost freak?!”

“I was just passing by, and I heard some commotion,” Danny said casually, narrowing his eyes. “As Amity Park’s unofficial protector, it was my duty to check it out.”

“H-honey, I don’t think y-you should be, uh,” Mrs. Baxter swallowed nervously, stuttering, “provoking, th-the Ghost Boy…”

“Right,” Mr. Baxter said slowly, “Sorry, Ghost Kid. Nothing to see here, move along. Nothing’s happening. Just a minor skirmish.”

Danny glared suspiciously, but he floated up, glancing briefly at Dash on the ground behind him before he looked back at the older blond. He didn’t miss the desperate hope shining in Dash’s eyes, hoping his hero—his favorite superhero—could save him tonight.

“If you say so.” The half-ghost said slowly, “I’ll just go back to hunting ghosts and patrolling this area then.”

With that, he turned invisible, floating out of the way as Mr. Baxter turned back to his son, seething anger in his eyes.

“Look at what you did!” He snarled at Dash, “One shout and a ghost gets into this house!”

“It wasn’t my f-fault!” Dash squeaked—it was uncharacteristic of him, but it only added to the sense of disillusionment coming over Danny. Mr. Baxter approached as if to hit him again anyway, and Danny tensed. Dash hurriedly blurted out, “He said he was in the area! What if he comes back?”

Mr. Baxter clenched his fist, glowering, before he growled and pointed roughly at the stairs. “To your room! Now! Not a sound out of you, and don’t come out; you’re grounded!”

Dash didn’t hesitate to bolt up the stairs and into his room. Danny watched as the man stomped after him and locked him in before going back to the living room and demanding his wife bring him another beer. The ghost boy chewed his bottom lip, debating what to do next.

He needed time to think. Without much else to do, and with Dash relatively safe for the rest of the night, he flew through the wall and headed home.

~~~

Danny flew back to the school after spending an hour at the Nasty Burger with his friends—football practice was almost out, and Danny resolved to catch Dash alone to talk to him, which he certainly couldn’t do during school hours. He had figured out a plan—he might not be able to talk to Dash as Fenton, but Phantom was Dash’s idol. Surely he’d listen to Phantom, right?

He slowed to a glide as he approached the school gates—from his vantage point in the sky, he could see that the football field was already empty, so practice might had just gotten out. He turned invisible when the members of the football team came through the doors, and he kept his eyes out for the blond he was looking for—and fifteen minutes after everyone else left, he emerged with Kwan.

“I didn’t know Phantom protected people like that,” Kwan said with a little awe.

“I dunno, he  _is_  Amity’s unofficial protector, he said so himself. He has like, a duty to check out stuff if he hears trouble,” Dash sighed dreamily.

Danny paused, wondering if he should talk to Dash while Kwan was there—it was unlikely that they would part soon, but… then again, Kwan did know about Dash’s situation…

“It’s my job to protect the citizens of Amity Park from monsters,” Danny said in a subdued version of his most heroic, authoritative voice, lifting his invisibility and causing the two jocks to jump and shout in surprise. His voice softened slightly, dropping from his hover to stand in front of them. “As far as I’m concerned… your father counted.”

Dash gasped, staring wide-eyed at his hero. Kwan gaped. “Phantom!”

“Hey. Dash Baxter, right?” Danny gave a lopsided grin, “Just came to check up on you. You okay?”

“R-really?” Dash exchanged a bewildered look with Kwan. “Um—yeah, I’m okay. Mostly. I mean, better than most days? Uh—thanks… for looking out for me? And for last night…”

Danny’s smile faded at that, his eyebrows furrowing. “You know, I did stick around a bit after your dad told me to leave—I saw what he was doing. And what he did to your mom.” His words caused the blond to stiffen, his eyes wide with a little fear. “Am I right to guess he’s usually worse?”

Dash shifted uncomfortably, looking down at his feet. Kwan patted his shoulder comfortingly, looking over at the white-haired ghostly teenager and answering in the stead of his friend. “It’s like you said. Mr. Baxter counts as a monster.”

“I thought so,” Danny nodded knowingly. “Look, Dash—as much as I’d like to help you out more, I know I can’t be there all the time—my powers are for fighting ghosts, not humans, and I can’t tell if regular people are in trouble unless I’m just… there, like I was last night.”

“Why would you want to help me?” Dash asked as he glanced up, looking confused, “I’m just some guy.”

“I see you around Casper High all the time—you know how much ghosts like to attack young vulnerable kids, yeah? You don’t seem like such a bad guy. I’d hate to see something happen to you.” Danny shrugged, “And… I sort of know how it is.”

Dash and Kwan’s eyebrows raised simultaneously, staring at the green-eyed ghost boy as he shuffled uncomfortably.

Okay, so it was kind of a lie, but Danny knew there was some truth to his words—he knew what it was like to be afraid of a parent, and what it was like to be hurt by them. Sure, his parents didn’t  _know_  it was him when they shot at his ghost form, or when they talked about dissecting Danny Phantom and doing experiments on him, but the point was Danny understood the sentiment.

“You,” Dash swallowed thickly, “you know what it’s like to be…?”

Danny didn’t verbally answer, shrugging and asking instead, “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

The blond looked down at his feet and scowled. “I can’t… Dad’s too good at acting and worming his way out of trouble, and threatens us to play along… even if I did get him into jail somehow, I’d go into the foster system—mom’s sort of emotionally unstable, she’s unfit to take care of me in the eyes of the law. If I end up in the foster system, I lose everything—football scholarships, my mom, my friends… I’d have to move and stuff, and I just—I know what it’s going to be like. I don’t want to end up there.”

“Do you ever try to talk to your mom about this?” Danny crossed his arms, “Or… anyone. If you want to stay with your mom—and if your mom wants to keep you, then you should fight for it. Both of you.”

Dash grit his teeth. “I’ll… I’ll be okay—just a few more years, y’know? Then I’ll be out of there, I’ll be in college, I’ll legally be an adult, and…”

“And what about your mom? Just because you’re not there, that doesn’t mean he’ll stop. You’re just going to let your dad do whatever he wants?” Danny challenged, “Dash, I get it, you’re scared. You have every right to be, but you don’t have to be. You don’t even have to stick around that situation—you and your mom can get out, and you have people on your side who will help you.” At this, he glanced at Kwan, who nodded in agreement immediately.

“He’s right, Dash. If stuff goes downhill, my parents’ll be happy to let you crash at our place for a while—you  _and_  your mom,” Kwan supplied, “and social workers aren’t as bad as you think. They’re there to help you. I’m here—and so’s Phantom, see?”

“I  _can’t_ ,” Dash made a frustrated sound, looking up at Phantom and scowling. “You’re right, I  _am_  scared. I can’t do this, okay?”

“So you’re just going to keep living as you are, scared of going home? Avoiding the real problem?” Danny uncrossed his arms, his glowing green eyes boring into Dash’s wet purple, “What if it gets worse?”

“How can it—” Dash cut himself off as a flash of Danny Fenton and all of his scars raced through his mind. He swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling dry. “…I’m not worse off than some other people. I think they’d need help more than I do, Phantom. I’m not gonna die any time soon from this.”

He took a deep breath, shaking his head fiercely. “Look, Phantom,” he started, trying to keep his voice from cracking, “I really appreciate the help, I really do. But I… I’m not as brave as you. I can’t stand up to my dad, and I’d really rather not… do something that’d make my situation worse, okay? So just… leave it alone.”

The ghost’s expression softened, and he sighed. “Alright. I’m not going to force you to do anything—I just wanted to try and help you, Dash.” He shook his head solemnly, jumping up and floating so he was eye-level with the other boy. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do? To convince you, or otherwise?”

“No. Just… keep it to yourself, okay? I don’t want this getting out.” Dash clenched his fists at his sides, the tremble barely hidden. “I want to keep this a secret—the less people who know, the better.”

Danny nodded and floated backwards. The other two boys exchanged glances, thinking he was going to just fly away and leave them be, but his voice called their attention back.

“You know, I thought the same thing.”

The pair stared up at the specter in confusion as he hovered a few feet in the air away from them, staring down at them with sad, apologetic eyes.

“About the secrets, that is,” he clarified, running his hand through his hair. “Maybe my problem was different, but I understand what you’re going through, alright? I just wanted you to know—I may not act like it, but I do understand. You’re scared of someone who’s supposed to love you, and you get hurt by them. If people knew, what would they think? What would happen? I get it. I thought the less people who knew what I was going through, the better. It’d be safer that way. I thought everything would be okay if it just stayed the same—that it couldn’t get worse.”

It technically wasn’t that far from the truth—he didn’t want his secret identity revealed, and it was safer that only his two friends and his sister knew about his ghost fighting double-life. They’d already been put in danger just because they knew his secret, after all. And sure, he was scared of what his parents would do if they caught him, but he was more scared of how they would feel—he knew from multiple alternate realities that they would accept him and his secret. But he never quite knew what would happen after—would they blame themselves for all of his scars? For their son becoming a half-ghost in the first place? Would guilt weigh heavily on their shoulders? Would they be hurt that he never told them, or never told them sooner, before any lasting damage was caused?

He couldn’t really bear the thought of hurting his parents like that. Right now, they were better off not knowing, and they couldn’t be hurt if they didn’t know. But Dash didn’t need to know that.

He took a breath he didn’t need, staring Dash right in the eye as he prepared to tell his biggest half-truth lie yet. He still had to help Dash, after all.

“I kept everything a secret. And look at me now. I’m a ghost.”

Dash and Kwan stared blankly as he gave them one last solemn smile and turned away, flying off.

He wanted to give Dash something to think about. He really hoped his lie would pay off.

~~~

Dash and Kwan sat quietly in Kwan’s room that night—Dash was sleeping over, it was a Friday after all and he slept over as much as he could, to stay away from his house as much as possible.

Their meeting with Phantom earlier that evening still echoed in their minds, and neither knew what to do or say. Kwan was laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and tossing a tennis ball absently above him.

“He just wanted to help you know,” the Asian boy said quietly.

“I know.” Dash replied stoically, just as quiet and subdued.

“He said everything I usually say. You know, about talking to someone. Getting help.”

“I know.”

“You know you can’t let your dad get away with it. Phantom was right about what’d happen if you just ignored it and went to college and stuff. He won’t stop—he’s a monster worse than the ghosts.”

“I know.”

There was a long silence, and Kwan wasn’t sure what else to say. He rolled over onto his stomach, looking down at where Dash was sitting on the blow-up mattress next to his bed. His best friend was staring hard at the wall, completely still.

Absently, Kwan tossed the ball to him—he caught it on reflex, throwing it back without a thought. They continued their silent game of catch without meeting each other’s eyes—or at least, Dash didn’t. Kwan was staring at him in concern.

“Do you think whoever killed Phantom, got away with it?”

Kwan startled at the question. “Killed?”

“You heard him, Kwan. He was abused too. He stayed quiet too. And he’s dead because of it.” Dash finally looked over, his eyes dull and deep, horror creeping into his expression as the train of thought went deeper, “He said he didn’t think it could get worse—obviously, it did. What if that happens to  _me_?”

“Dash, I…” Kwan gripped the ball tightly, shifting and sitting up, “it won’t. You aren’t gonna be like Phantom, okay? Phantom tried to help you for a reason—he gets it. He gets you. He doesn’t want the same thing that happened to him, to happen to you. But that’ll only mean something if you get help.”

Dash blinked at him, frowning deeply. “But… if I…”

“Okay, screw the consequences, Dash—screw what your dad will do. Screw your dad!” Kwan practically yelled, frustrated, “I’ve been here for you for years, I’ve bandaged you up, I’ve backed you up, I’ve kept your secret, I’ve given you my home… I’ll be there for you too, when you stand up to your dad. I’ll be right there by your side. But I want you to stop getting hurt too!”

“Kwan,” Dash stood up, coming over to sit on the bed next to him. He braced his hands on his knees, clenching his fingers around his jeans. “I… I do want to get out. I just… I don’t know what to do. I mean, Dad’s… gotten out of this stuff before. When mom goes out and people see her bruises, he’s gotten out of it…”

“Then we’ll—I dunno, we’ll get proof he’s doing all this crap to you. It’s just gotta stop,” Kwan shook his head desperately.

“Proof…?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t matter what it takes, let’s get some proof and get your dad arrested, and hopefully put away for good.” Kwan pat his back in a friendly manner, “And we’ll help your mom too. We’ll make sure you can’t be separated from her, that she’s not a bad mom because she couldn’t protect you—she’s barely able to protect herself. She can’t be blamed for that.”

“Okay. Okay, Kwan. Thanks,” Dash sagged in relief, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Kwan grinned, though it was a melancholy grin. He didn’t answer, he just threw his arm around his best friend and squeezed him gently.

“So… where do we start?” Dash stared at the floor, contemplative, trying to gather his courage before he got scared again and backed out of the plan.

“Well… I think we do need to talk to someone. Some adult who can help us, right now,” Kwan shrugged, “We could try my mom. She might be able to help with your mom. And give you more reasons to come over.”

“Yeah… okay.” Dash nodded. If Kwan’s mom, who loved him just as much as she loved her own son, could help his mom gain a little strength like how Kwan was helping him, then maybe he could have a little more hope.

Kwan tapped his foot and added thoughtfully, “And maybe Mr. Lancer.”

“Lancer?” Dash blinked.

“Yeah. He’s cool, man, I go to his office for writing tips sometimes,” Kwan shrugged, “and he genuinely cares about us. I saw him helping Fenton once.”

“Fenton? You mean he was helping Fenton with his…”

“No, not that—he got like a failing grade or something and Lancer let him retake the test ‘cause, I dunno, I guess he realized the kid’s having problems somewhere,” Kwan shrugged, “I don’t know how much he knows about Fenton, if at all, but Mr. Lancer’s a good guy to have on our side. There’s only so much my mom can tell your dad about how much we study together and stuff, you know? Lancer can give you a few more alibis.”

Dash nodded, grateful for his friend’s advice. “Yeah. Good idea.”

Things were looking up. Maybe everything would be okay after all.

~~~

“Hey, Fenton!”

Danny flinched, pausing as he reached for his books in his locker after finally getting out of detention. He sighed heavily and turned around. “What is it, Dash?” He asked dully—he had an act to keep up after all. And he also wasn’t supposed to know of any life-changing epiphanies Dash had had recently.

Though he couldn’t help but hope that the blond jock wasn’t calling out to him to beat him up again. It had been several weeks since he’d talked to Dash as Phantom, and the boy hadn’t beaten him up since the week before that, so he honestly didn’t know what to expect from the encounter.

Dash marched up to him, with Kwan flanking just behind, and stopped in front of him, looking like they just got out of football practice—Danny could smell the sweat still coming off them. A few kids getting out of detention or clubs that had been meandering the hallways stared, waiting for the inevitable wailing, but they were surprised when instead, Dash held out his hand as if expecting Danny to shake it.

“Look, I’m sure you’ve noticed I haven’t beat you up for like, a month…” Dash started, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “Thing is, I’ve been doing a lot of talking and stuff—to, you know, Mr. Lancer and a few other people, and I kinda realized a few things. Anyway, point is, I’m sorry I was such a jerk to you.”

Danny blinked slowly at him, looking down at his hand, then back up at his face. “Uh… apology accepted?” He replied meekly, not sure what was going on exactly. He reached out and shook Dash’s hand once before stepping back.

A few whispers spread through the hallway—a few people said Lancer put him up to this. A few others speculated on the month of Dash’s mysterious lack of bullying. A few of Dash’s former victims stared in bewilderment.

Dash frowned, letting his hand fall to his side, shuffling his feet awkwardly. The apology didn’t seem like enough. “I did a lot of stuff I’m not really proud of. A lot of it was petty, and you didn’t deserve what I did to you when I was mad and upset at myself. I… I was going through some rough patches, and I didn’t know how to cope, so I took everything out on you and the other losers—er, no offense.”

“None taken,” Danny shrugged offhandedly, not sure how else to respond. He was used to being called a loser, after all.

“Look, I had some problems and it was just…  _easier_ , to beat you up every day, than to work it out, because that’s what I grew up knowing, and now I realize that was wrong. I thought it’d make me feel better, but it didn’t, and I didn’t mean to—gah, I don’t really know what I’m trying to say!” Dash shook his head furiously, frustrated at himself. “I—I want to make it up to you somehow, okay? I don’t care what everyone else says. I was a jerk, and I’m  _so_  sorry.”

Danny stared at him, trying to come up with a response. He understood  _why_  Dash was doing all of this, but he couldn’t say it in front of everyone else. He wasn’t sure if Dash still wanted it to be a secret or not. Still, apparently the blond thought he hadn’t apologized enough, and Danny wasn’t sure if all the forgiveness in the world would make him feel better.

“I already said, it’s okay. I accept your apology, Dash. I forgive you.” Danny shrugged, “You don’t have to do anything to make it up to me. The fact that you stopped beating people up is enough. I’m glad you learned from your mistakes.”

Dash gawked at him, and he exchanged a glance with Kwan. The Asian boy finally piped up, “You’re not mad at him?”

“No, why?” Danny blinked.

“I mean, you don’t even want to like, I dunno, get in a free punch or something?” Kwan asked incredulously.

“Yeah, you totally have a free shot, Fenton, I totally deserve it after everything I did to you.” Dash nodded in agreement, dumbfounded.

“Why would I hit you? I hated getting hit.” Danny shrugged, “I mean, yeah, I don’t like you because you totally were a jerk to me and my friends, but I wouldn’t want anyone else to go through that, even if it is you.”

Dash stared at him, his eyes wide like he had just had an epiphany. Like he just realized why Danny never lashed out at anyone, unlike Dash himself.

“Look, I’m late in meeting my friends at the Nasty Burger. So if we’re done here…?” Danny quirked an eyebrow at him.

Dash deflated a little—he knew he shouldn’t have expected Fenton to be all friendly with him, and he was sure that there was a little resentment if the smaller teen was acting this cold.

Kwan patted his shoulder, muttering quietly, “It’s okay, dude, you apologized. You did all you could do.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dash nodded, looking at Danny again, purple eyes meeting cool blue. “Sorry for everything, again. And I mean it… I want to make it up to you. So if you ever need anything, just ask.”

Danny blinked slowly at him, pondering the genuine and somewhat odd offer, but he nodded. “Yeah… okay. See you ‘round, then.” He turned back to his locker, grabbing his stuff before he slammed it shut, turning to go.

As he walked away, he suddenly remembered that Dash—and Kwan—thought that Danny himself was being abused. Well, that explained why he offered to help Danny in “anything”. And if Dash was trying to befriend him to help him through the “problem” the boy thought he was having that he could sympathize with… well, Danny could come up with an explanation for his scars later.

He stopped and turned around, catching the pair of jocks just before they prepared to head to their own lockers to get their stuff and go home.

“Hey Dash?” He called, and they looked back at him, surprised. “Whatever your problem was, I’m glad you got through it. And you’ve got some guts, doing all this. Just saying. It’s pretty brave.”

“Uh, thanks.” Dash blinked at him, turning to face him more, a grin tugging at his lips. “I got it from a really unexpected person. So I just thought I’d pass it on.”

Danny blinked at him, then shrugged and waved, turning and heading out, a slight smile on his own face.

His lie had worked—it had taken a while, but it worked. He couldn’t help but feel glad that he’d managed to help his former bully—everything worked out fine, in the end… even if he had to lie a little first.

Some lies were okay to tell, he decided.


End file.
